"That is an allegory," said the young man, as the sun went under, looking into his companion's face, where a pink flush seemed still to linger: "it means the end of the war. The forces on both sides are withdrawn. The blood that has been shed gathers itself into a vast globule and drops into the ocean."
"I'm afraid it means a shabby compromise," said Elizabeth. "Light disappears, too, and the land is in darkness."
"Only for a season," answered the other. "We mourn our dead. Then light comes again, stronger and brighter than ever. Perhaps you'll be crying for me, Lizzie, at that distant day."
"Oh, Jack, didn't you promise not to talk about that?" says Lizzie, threatening to anticipate the performance in question.
Jack took this rebuke in silence, gazing soberly at the empty sky. Soon the young girl's eyes stole up to his face. If he had been looking at anything in particular, I think she would have followed the direction of his glance; but as it seemed to be a very vacant one, she let her eyes rest.
"Jack," said she, after a pause, "I wonder how you'll look when you get back."
Ford's soberness gave way to a laugh.
"Uglier than ever. I shall be all incrusted with mud and gore. And then I shall be magnificently sun-burnt, and I shall have a beard."
"Oh, you dreadful!" and Lizzie gave a little shout. "Really, Jack, if you have a beard, you'll not look like a gentleman."
"Shall I look like a lady, pray?" says Jack.